Misandry
by azimah19
Summary: No hard feelings turned out to be every sort of feelings. The mystery of the Undertaker's funeral lockets will make William and Nina remember things they'd rather forget. Set after the Campania arc. William T. Spears x Nina Hopkins


Kuroshitsuji and all of its characters belong to Yana Toboso.

AN: Thanks to The Chainsaw Juliet, now I can't stop thinking of Nina Hopkins as an ex-Reaper. This is a deliberate butchering of Nina's character because I want to make her into something more than fanservice fodder.

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Nina Hopkins was the very reason why women should never be Reapers.

If William was going to be mysogynistic about it, then he could make an extensive list of whys and whos...but that would mean describing the entire clerical staff of his office, and Nina Hopkins was never anything like them.

"Well, don't just stand there like it's your first time, darling. Come on upstairs."

It was possible the she and Grell could be style sisters separated at birth. He'd recognize her room – or rather, recognize the interior design anywhere. From the tacky Tiffany lamps, to the lewd tapestries meant to lend an Oriental charm to an otherwise austere London flat. It was an obvious show of hedonism, and Nina wasn't ashamed of it. The war zone she called her shop downstairs was no improvement either.

"When you said fast, I didn't know you wanted it _that _fast. Honestly, everytime you come here it's always to make me do the impossible. Snuff?"

William looked at the proferred box and shook his head. He handed her the keys she'd tossed down earlier.

"I _told_ you to keep it." She'd clearly had a late night, yet he didn't feel guilty for disturbing her. She threw herself over the nearest armchair and motioned for him to do the same. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

"You know I can't do that," he said, pointedly placing it on the coffee table. "And yes: I do mind."

"Well, too bad," said Nina, lighting up. "Talking to you always makes my brain itch, so either I kill a ciggie or I kill you. Anyway, back to our topic: you're worried that Grell would find out about us? Feh, just tell her we're done! _You _personally made sure of that."

"My personal relationship is not up for discussion here. You said you have something for me."

"Hm, yes. On the mantlepiece."

It was propped against the clock: an envelope with William's name on it.

"As you can see, they're only sketches," she said as he perused its contents. "Can't exactly smuggle a camera in there now, can I? But I assure you they're visually accurate."

"As all of your sketches are," he said, a tint of approval colouring his voice.

"So what's all this interest about those funeral lockets, then? I heard the Undertaker caused quite a bit of a ruckus last week. The papers wouldn't talk about anything else. And don't give me the whole 'It's better that I don't know' nonsense. With him out of the picture, you _know_ you need me more than ever."

"He's gone rogue," said William in a manner which indicated that that was the only thing she'll get out of him.

But Nina wasn't fooled. She'd been mental sparring with him far too many times in the past. She knew how to break him.

"Hm, yes," she drawled, minutely inspecting her lacquered nails. "Gone rogue as in he'd turned around, spread his arse and dumped the biggest shite on your lap. Tell me about the Bizarre Dolls."

William didn't bother to ask how she knew. "I'm sure you've heard of him tampering with Cinematic Records. Judging from your expression, there should be an 'I told you so' all loaded up and waiting to be fired. So go on right ahead."

"I've _warned_ you before, Spears," she said, waving her cigarette at him accusingly. "Remember that time Ronald botched up his reaping job and tried to fix it with another person's Record? Luckily for you – and unluckily for him – you chose to personally oversee the Records for that day before they were submitted to the library. If Ronald can figure that out, it wouldn't take long for other Reapers to latch on to that idea. Face it: you've been blindsided by your own stupid hero worship."

Tucking the envelope safely inside his coat pocket, he affixed her with the stoniest glare he could muster. The only thing it achieved, however, was to make her launch into another tirade.

"You've literally allowed the Undertaker to turn the library into a playground! Huh, and to think that you were once worried about something as trivial as a _relationship_ derailing your career. Well, I voluntarily left…and the last time I checked, you're still not smelling of roses." Nina sucked in her cigarette and drew out an impressive plume of smoke. "There. I'm done ranting. You can continue hating me now, darling."

"Still dredging up the past, Hopkins? I thought that wasn't your style."

"But it's yours. That's what you are: the proverbial stick in the mud. Wedged so tightly in your rigid, conformist attitude that you are afraid of new ideas. That's why you're afraid of me."

"Huh, please," William scoffed. "You give yourself far too much credit."

"I had plans that could turn the department around! Double work efficency so that no field agent had to work overlapping shifts. You threw my ideas out the window-"

"You were reckless and emotional, Hopkins. And you take poorly to criticisms. You also bend rules far too easily for my liking. _That's _the reason why you can't properly function as a Reaper."

"Really? Well you had no qualms about bending the rules for Grell, so why is she any different?"

Nina smiled at the furious silence that followed.

"Don't get me wrong," she said, stubbing out her cigarette. "I've met her…and she's amazing. Knows her own style, comfortable enough to show it. I love her…but we both have this unfortunate _poor_ taste in men." William's expression soured. He was positive she'd winked at him when she said that. "Hm…can't win them all, can we? Speaking of which, how's she doing? I heard that she was in pretty bad shape when you extracted her and Ronald."

"Both Sutcliff and Knox are…recovering. I expect them to be back at work by next week."

Nina winced. "That soon? Yeesh, you're really working your agents to…death. Pardon the pun, ahaha. Couldn't resist. Anyway, Spears…listen to me-"

"No."

"Willie, love. Please." Now _that_ got his attention.

"You've got no one left," Nina went on. "The Undertaker's sent two of your best agents to the hospital, _and_ he was fighting that stinker Michaelis at the same time. What makes you think you can touch him all by yourself? At this point, you'll need all the help you can get."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Reinstate me."

"Out of the question!" he said sharply.

"Fine, we'll go with option B, then. I'm assuming this 'Alex' had something to do with the Undertaker? You saw the names on those lockets. It wouldn't be too much to hope that it's his real name, would it?"

"I don't know," said William. "Maybe this Claudia P could tell us something."

"Hmm…probably a lover. Or a fiancee. Could also be Phantomhive's great-great-grandmother. Why else would Undertaker let the boy have it? Wouldn't hurt to revisit the old family tree and do a bit of pruning."

"What are you – Sherlock Holmes all of a sudden?"

"Y'know, I've actually met him. Horrible little man. Had the gall to call my creations 'tasteless'! Hah, he wouldn't know style even it up and murdered him in the middle of the night!"

William allowed himself a tiny chuckle. "I think I'm liking him already."

"Oh, please. You don't do 'like', Spears. You're too busy being a crabby old codger." Nina stopped, a sudden thought hitting her. "Hm…come to think of it, you really should meet him. I'm sure the two of you would get along _famously."_

"Of course. Who else would be a brilliant judge of character other than the infallible Nina Hopkins?"

"Is that a poor attempt at sarcasm, Spears? Wow, you've certainly lost your touch since I left. Look: the fact is, your department's in shambles. You've been suspecting people for all the wrong reasons. While it's understandable you've overlooked Grell's trangressions, how can you possibly not have a clue about the Humphries-Slingby case? Or the Undertaker's involvement with the Bizarre Dolls? That man's had access to far too many classified information, and it never occurred to you that he wouldn't abuse it? Your problem isn't the lack of competent staff, but rather you have no one to watch your backside. You're too scared to play dirty, so _why_ do you think I'd agreed to help in the first place?"

William gathered himself to leave, but really there was nothing for him take. He hadn't even bothered to sit down. "Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Hopkins," he said stiffly. "Be assured that this is the last time I consult you on Reaper matters."

"My God, your ego is _impressive, _William," Nina said, shaking her head. "Just say that you need me already. I promise I won't shout it out at the rooftops."

"No, as a matter of fact I don't."

"Fine. Then allow me to impart one last nugget of wisdom: try asking Lawrence Anderson. He's still part of the Reaper payroll, is he not? I'm sure he knows a few things about your Undertaker."

"Thank you. I shall…keep that in mind."

"So, with all that out of the way, how about a quick shag for old times' sake? Oh, don't give me that look. You didn't say no the last time."

"Didn't you mention that you're into young boys now…?" said William, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice.

"Oh, Wills…you certainly have a _lot_ to learn about undercover work," said Nina, rolling her eyes. "How else d'you think I could get close to Phantomhive without that butler dog of his sniffing me every five seconds? He already hates me as it is. I don't know – maybe it's an ingrained Reaper/Demon thing? Hmph, whatever. I really don't care about such things. So, how about it?"

William strode over, took her hand and kissed it. It was nothing more than a mere brush of his lips, but it belied a gentleness that was utterly uncharacteristic of him. Nina would've blushed if she only knew how. A woman like her couldn't get flustered over such silly gestures.

"You've always been a sentimental fool, Wills. Don't even bother denying it. All that shouting and glaring can only hide so much."

"Imagine the shock if my staff ever found out."

Nina snorted. "Get out of here, you. I might as well get a few more hours of sleep before I face another gruelling session with my clients. Honestly, is _everybody _else born with hideous sense of style but myself? No, don't answer that, darling. You're not qualified enough."

"Good day, Hopkins."

"Oi."

William paused at the doorway.

Nina had leaned back in her chair, and she was giving him an insolently smug look. The only other creature who could pull off that same look with such panache was a cat. "Know why I actually quit the Reaping gig?"

"I'm all agog to know."

"It's because I'd be damned better at it than you'll ever be."

William, blast him, simply had to rise to the bait. Blast him and his incessant need to outsmart Nina Hopkins all the way to hell.

"No. It's because you just can't cut it as one," he said, and left.

Nina chuckled silently to herself. "Nice chatting with your ego! Drop by anytime, you hear?"

The front door slamming shut was the only answer she got.

THE END


End file.
